


Los Pólenes Sexuales

by Smapdi



Category: The Mindy Project
Genre: F/M, La Bienvenida a la Casa de la Fiebre de Terciopelo, My Bagels!, Sex Pollen, You Guys It's Super Smutty, dub con kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4280751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smapdi/pseuds/Smapdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny and Mindy and the sex pollen trope. If you're not familiar with it, this may be confusing. Porn without any semblance of plot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Los Pólenes Sexuales

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Likerealpeopledo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likerealpeopledo/gifts).



> Forgive the Spanglish of the title, it's a joke that stuck and I'm terrible with titles.

Danny Castellano is sweating, which is anything but unusual. Still, the circumstances surrounding this particular attack of perspiration are exactly that. Unusual is actually putting it mildly - it's ludicrous, maddening, just plain insane, and yet it's impossible for him to deny what is happening. 

His heart is pounding dangerously fast. The aforementioned sweat is not just blooming under his arms, but everywhere that he has suitable glands, and it is wildly uncomfortable. Rivulets of it are trickling down his temples, stinging his eyes, and when he licks his lips, the salt is tangy on his tongue. 

He's suffered the occasional panic attack before, and this would fit that profile, if not for the one symptom that couldn't be explained so easily. 

The raging, entirely inappropriate erection. 

Stumbling into his apartment, Danny slams his front door and makes his way to the kitchen. It's gleaming with bachelorhood, the kind where the bachelor is wealthy and busy and has twice weekly service come in to remove any traces of humanity. There's nothing out of place, from the shiny track lighting above his head to this smooth dust free floors, and no one would question being told it was just staged as a model home and no one actually lived there. 

And in a way, it's accurate. 

He opens the refrigerator door roughly and pulls out a pitcher of cold, filtered water. Without bothering to get a glass, he simply tears off the lid and begins to gulp the water directly from the container. It quenches his thirst, but not the heat that's burning him from the inside, so without hesitation he upends the pitcher over his head. 

It helps for a moment, and he stares at his now damp leather shoes as droplets of water run off his head and hit the floor. The apartment has been closed all day, so it's dismally stuffy, leading Danny to do the unthinkable. He heads to his thermostat to turn on the air conditioning. When he flips the switch, there's a loud thump, and it's been unused for so long that he's not sure if it's a regular noise or if something is broken - until he feels the blast of air. 

He stands under the vent, head tilted back, so the cool current hits him in the face, and the chill spills over him and makes his shirt cling even tighter to his skin. But it's not refreshing. It just feels suffocating, like now he can't breathe, and the internal fire is threatening to combust. His chest feels like it's bursting, and that's nothing compared to his cock, which he realizes he's been grasping through his jeans, unconsciously. 

Danny lets go and rubs his hands over his face, just rearranging the sweat from place to place. He never really believed the reports, but now, what else could it be? The symptoms fall in line with what he's heard: nausea, headaches, blurred vision, intense heart palpitations, temperature fluctuations, oh and what's that last one? Uncontrollable lust? 

He needs to sit down. There's no point in standing there if it's not cooling him off, and maybe if he can just stop thinking about what he wants, no, needs, to do with his dick, he can get past this. Or he could jerk off. Somehow, though, even though he's entirely too familiar with the whole Palm family, he can't do it. It's like he knows it won't bring him relief, even though it would make sense - you desperately need to come, you find a way. It's just not what the situation calls for this time, especially because he's well aware of just what would trigger his release. Or more specifically, who. It wouldn't be the first time he'd furiously fucked his hand while desperately trying not to think about someone, thus making her even more prevalent in his fantasies. And right now, that seems more offensive, even though he could justify it was out of his control. But losing control is a sin, too, at least in his mind, if not one he had to necessarily do penance for. 

So Danny sits at the kitchen table, head in his hands, and tries to concentrate on pinning down how is happened, where he could have been exposed, and what the hell to do now. Besides the obvious, of course - find the nearest willing partner and copulate like his life depends on it. 

And maybe it does. So technically nobody had yet died from this, whatever it is - this infection, this syndrome. Danny doesn't even know the proper terms, and he's a medical professional. But it can't be good for a person to have this continue for extended periods, and since there's no known treatment, he figures he'll probably go down in history as the first casualty. There's a legacy to be proud of: Daniel Castellano, 40, single, childless, found dead, alone in his apartment with the biggest boner on record. Services are private, send flowers to his mother, if she hasn't collapsed of embarrassment. 

Fuck. 

His brain is fuzzy, thick with the burden of struggling to fight his physiology, and his head throbs. Both heads, to be fair. Danny tries to use ithe upper one productively, to pinpoint where he might have been the subject of this bizarre contagion, less to help humanity and more just to keep from going mad. 

It couldn't have been at work. No one else was acting abnormal, and certainly it would have stood out if Beverly was more horny than usual, because no one would think it possible. Peter had bragged of his "immunity" just last week, saying he'd been a carrier all his life, and Jeremy slyly implied every woman he ever dated was already under the influence because they couldn't keep their hands off his skinny British ass. Those two would definitely have been obvious if it had struck them. 

Hell, Danny barely escaped without notice. He had been in the middle of a routine breast exam for a woman his mother's age when he started to feel dizzy. The patient expressed some concerns when he began to sweat profusely, but it wasn't until his dick got hard that he realized something was very, very wrong. He excused himself, claiming the flu, and sat in his office for about ten minutes trying to calm down before giving up and fleeing for home. 

So it was only him, which limited the exposure areas. Of course, someone else could have developed symptoms after him, but how was he to find out? He couldn't exactly call the office and ask if Tamra and Morgan were grinding in phlebotomy, or if Peter was dry humping the ficus. And really, if they were exposed at work, all of them would be symptomatic, though Mindy had been called to the hospital shortly after they arrived, so if that was the case, she would be fine. 

When Danny hears the doorbell, in conjunction with frenzied pounding, he doesn't even think to look at who is doing it; he just shuffles over and opens it. 

And instantly, he realizes where it must have happened, or at least with who. 

It's Mindy, and she's not fine. She stands there, hand still in the act of knocking, and she's clearly a mess. Her damp, disheveled hair sticks to her face, her clothes are in disarray, and her eyes - always huge, they're luminous now, pupils blown wide into deep inky pools. She's panting, her breath hitching as though she's sobbing, and she's flushed and sweaty. 

"Holy fuck," she moans, dragging her eyes down his body, and Danny instinctively shields himself with the door and starts to shut it. She pushes it into him and storms in. 

"What are you doing here?" His voice shakes, his entire body buzzing, and he's a little terrified. "You can't be here."

"What the fuck did you do?" It's like she's got superhuman strength as she grabs his shirt and slams him against the door, shutting it in the process. "Did you roofie me, or, or..."

He had bought her coffee. It was almost routine these days, when they came in on the subway together, to stop at a street vendor, or, shudder, a Starbucks, and grab something. She paid about ten percent of the time and thought they were even, and he didn't care. 

"I didn't do anything," he hisses, moving to push her away, because she's suddenly pressing her body against his and she must feel his erection and God, he wants her, but he doesn't want her like this. But his hands find her hips and his fingers curl into the soft flesh and he's holding her against him. She's not moving away in repulsion. Instead, Mindy's searching his face and licking her lips and he thinks his blood is actually boiling. "There must have been an attack, in the subway, or the coffee shop..." 

It sounds so ridiculous and yet there's simply no other explanation. 

Danny digs deep and finds some well of self control that hasn't yet been drained dry and shoves her away. "You need to leave." His voice is thick and rough, and he's deadly serious. Mindy just shakes her head, and when Danny moves to open the door she blocks him, breathing hard, and reaches over her shoulder to throw the deadbolt. 

"I'm not going anywhere yet," she growls, advancing on him almost threateningly. If anything, she's even more attractive like this, commanding and assertive and horny. "You know what this is."

He just nods, his pulse impossibly increasing, his heart threatening to burst from his chest, and elsewhere, other threats. 

"And you know what we have to do." Mindy's eyes are black, hungry. Danny feels his resolve stretching beyond its limits, trembling, any moment ready to snap, and he can't do this. Not to her. 

"We have to call the CDC..." His voice trails off. That's not what she means and he knows it. 

He turns away, wiping at his face, and his skin feels too tight and his clothes too restrictive. A cold shower, that's what he needs, that should cool him down. He just has to get rid of Mindy. 

"Can't you find someone, someone to...help you?" His throat is raw and dry and the words are like sandpaper

"Why do you think I came here?" She hisses and his head whips back to her. "I need you."

There's a measure of desperation in her voice that matches his own.

"Do you want me to go find someone on the street, a stranger, to fuck me senseless? Or an ex? Maybe Tom, with his big..."

"Stop, Mindy, stop!" 

"Then fuck me, Danny. Do whatever you want, I don't care, I just need you to fuck me hard and make me come and make this stop."

He sees her reaching for his crotch and he steels himself, expecting her to grab him, but she just ghosts her hand across the front of his pants and somehow that's even worse, the gentleness contrasting to her crude words. 

"I know you want this."

"It's the drug, Mindy, you don't really..."

"I don't care!" She fists her hands into his wet shirt and propels herself up against him, sending him reeling so he almost falls against her, and then she's kissing him and everything's off balance. 

Mindy's mouth is so hot - a million degrees -and wet and welcoming as Danny slides his tongue inside, and he can't help but think of how it would feel on his cock. She's tearing at his clothes, tugging his shirt from his pants so she can feel his flesh. Her hands burn tracks up his chest and then she drags her nails down and the friction is making his skin spark. 

He wants to stop her, somewhere back in the logic part of his mind, but everything feels too damned good. Instead, Danny is just succumbing, drowning in her, and his own hands are scrabbling across her back, down to her ass, that ass he's longed to touch for longer than he can admit even to himself. He grinds against her, his hips seemingly disconnected from his brain because he shouldn't be doing that, and Mindy whines in frustration. She pulls away and Danny has to steady himself against the door because he's dizzy in her absence. 

She never loses eye contact, though, as she slides her hands up under her skirt. She does a little shimmy and her panties fall around her ankles, and she scoops them up and tosses them at him. They smack the side of his face and he can't help but inhale her scent as he grabs the damp cloth from his cheek. Mindy laughs, low in her throat, and grabs him by the front pocket of his jeans, dragging him towards the bedroom. 

There's still time to stop this, the tiny voice inside his head whispers, but he knows there isn't, because it's not just this poison inside him that's making him want her so much. He can't even walk the whole distance before grabbing her again, pressing against her back, kissing the simmering skin of her neck as she sways. Then they're at his bedside and Mindy twists in his arms, taking control again, and he doesn't like it but oh god, it's hot, her confidence, her dominance. Danny pulls off his shirt, buttons popping, and it's a $40 shirt and he doesn't even care because the air against his sizzling skin is amazing. 

Mindy runs her hands over his chest, pushing him back so he lands half on the bed, and then she straddles him with a grunt. She sinks down, her thighs on either side of Danny's hips, and she rubs herself against his erection, crushing it almost too painfully. He can feel her warm and wet through his jeans and he's so on edge he can't breathe, and he wants to come, but in her, not in his jeans like a teenager, so he tries to scoot himself up while pushing her back. She gets the hint and slides down off the bed, onto her knees, and mouths him through his pants. 

"Fuck, Min, stop, I'm too close." Danny is certain he's going to be humiliated enough when this is over without being some kind of two pump chump. His pants are so tight, too tight, and he fumbles at the buckle because he has to get them off. right. now. Mindy's deft fingers replace his and she undoes him in no time, sliding his jeans over his hips, scrabbling at the waistband of his briefs till she can get them down and his cock springs free, finally, blissfully. 

She doesn't even bother pulling them down further, just slides back up, wrapping her hand around his shaft and stroking loosely, her thumb rolling over the leaking head, eliciting a guttural moan from deep in Danny's throat. Mindy leans down, kissing him sloppily, all lips and tongue and teeth, and her grip tightens around him as she lowers herself till she can stroke him against her apex. Danny's hips surge, desperately seeking that velvet fever, as she lets go and slides across the underside of his cock, arched above him, her hair swinging into his face. She plants her hands on his shoulders and grinds down. 

"You want to fuck me, Danny," she moans. It's not a question. 

"Yes, fuck, yes." His hands grip her hips, lifting her up, and she reaches between her legs to grasp him again, guiding him to her, and he lets her control the movement, even though he wants nothing more than to thrust into her mindlessly. Mindy rears up and then bears down, swallowing him into her heat, crying out as he stretches her, until she's flush against his hips and he's buried in her. 

Danny is lost in the sensation now, as she squeezes, lifting up and sinking down, her movements just this side of frenzied. He pulls at the hem of her dress, pushing it up around her waist, but it's not till she leans back down that he can find the zipper and get the top loose enough. Mindy's annoyed by this useless interference and she pulls it off on her own, tearing something in the process by the sounds of it, and then she's naked and gorgeous as she fucks him. 

He can't last long, but apparently neither can she, because she's arching back, one hand between her legs, the other digging into his thigh, and she's whining curses through gritted teeth as she comes hard around his cock. He lets go, both hands gripping her ass tightly as he empties himself into her, his hips slamming up again and again. 

Mindy shudders and relaxes, folding herself against his chest, panting. He's still inside her, softening, and he strokes her back and waits for the burning inside him to subside and his heart rate to return to normal. 

But it doesn't. 

Danny is still on fire, burning for her, but while this drug makes him horny, it can't make him fifteen. He'll have to make do for now. Yanking at her roughly, he slides her up his abdomen, and she startles, sitting up.

"I want to taste you," he murmurs roughly as he begins to roll her over, but she stops him, kissing him first, then moving up his body till she's straddling his chest. Danny clutches at her ass and pulls her to his mouth. 

He licks up Mindy's thighs, tasting the mixture of her wetness and his come as it flows from her. His lips tug at her and he spreads her open with his thumbs from behind, giving his tongue access to plunge inside her. She's a little wobbly and she steadies her hands on the headboard so she can rock against his face, but Danny wants to run the show now and he stills her movements by gripping her thighs hard enough to bruise. Mindy moans in frustration and he laughs against her mound, letting his tongue dart and tease her clit, biting lightly at her mons. 

She has enough balance to grab a fistful of his hair so she can grind against him. 

He responds by lifting her up and twisting their bodies so she's underneath him. He kisses back up her body, licking a hot stripe up her belly as he palms her breasts. He pinches a nipple hard and she slaps him, cursing, and he answers with his mouth on her other tit, licking and sucking, nipping with his teeth. She scrapes her nails down his back, hard, and his closes his teeth on her teat, pulling, squeezing her other breast. 

"Unnnnghh...you fucker," she gasps, digging her nails into his scalp, undulating beneath him in search of pressure. Danny slips his hand between her legs, and she's so wet and loose his fingers slip easily into her. Mindy grunts and grinds against his palm. He takes his fingers out and licks them, and she stares him down, whining, until he kisses her so she can taste herself on his tongue. Then he moves back down, spreading her thighs wide and kissing a path that entirely avoids where she wants him the most. Mindy tries to ease the torture with her own hands, but Danny grabs her wrists and holds them down as he teases her swollen flesh with his lips. 

Finally he ends her exquisite suffering, plunging his fingers inside her, curling and stroking while he laves her clit with the flat of his tongue. With the added pressure on her inner walls, she climaxes, waves of clenching around his fingers, jutting her hips so hard she smacks Danny in the nose, and he thinks it might be broken but he keeps going, intent on working her through it. 

As a kind of reward, he feels his own arousal returning, admirably so. Mindy is still panting and coming down when he rolls her over, sliding his hardening member through the slickness between her thighs and ass cheeks. She moans, low in her throat, her ass rising against him.

Danny slides her arm under her belly, pulling her onto her knees, nudging her legs apart enough that he can push himself inside her. He thrusts hard, entering her in one movement, one hand squeezing the round flesh of her backside. Mindy keens and pushes back, digging her fingers into the mattress as Danny slams his hips against hers again and again. 

He reaches down and grabs a hank of her hair and pulls her up, holding her in place against his chest as he fondles her, licking and sucking at her neck. Mindy reaches back to twine her arms around his neck, clutching at his nape, arching into his grasp as he gropes her breasts. His breath is hot and heavy against her neck until he pushes her back down, thrusting hard and erratic, his hands tight on her hips while he's pumping into her. Danny slaps her ass once and she gasps and clenches around him, so he smacks her again between thrusts until there's a pink bloom on her cheek. It's enough to send her over the edge her again and she shudders as he finishes deep inside her.

Mindy slides forward and Danny slips out, pulling her to him as he collapses onto the mattress. They're both panting, sucking air in huge gasps as their bodies start to cool. 

It's over, he can feel it. The feverish grip is relaxing, and his skin is almost tingling as his blood pumps cleanly through him, flushing whatever to was from his system. He lies flat on his back like a starfish, feeling the air from the vents rolling over him, and as the fog lifts, he turns to look at Mindy, her hair matted and clumped, the smooth skin of her back glowing with sweat. The madness of the contaminant is now being replaced by his own natural sense of horror and regret for what has just happened, and he struggles to keep that from overwhelming him. 

Mindy rolls over, halfway onto her side, pulling up her legs as she curls toward him. Her voice is rough. 

"Are you okay now?"

Danny can barely speak. "Yeah...I think so. You?" It hurts to look at her, all damp and breathless, after the things he did... He can't excuse it as the drug. He's just ruined everything. 

"Yeah, it's got to be leaving my system." Mindy is talking to him so casually that it's throwing him off. Doesn't she hate him now? "My core temperature seems to be dropping, and my heart rate is returning to normal..."

"And you don't want to fuck me anymore." It doesn't come across as lighthearted as he intended, but that could be due to the crack in his voice. 

"No, Danny, that's the weird thing." She reaches out and strokes his face, her fingers featherlight on his cheek. "I pretty much still do." 

The shock must show on his face, because she laughs. "Not right now, geez. I'm already pretty sore."

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, still trying to register what she's saying. 

"For what? For having a great dick? And a great mouth?" She runs her thumb across his lower lip. "I feel like I should be the one apologizing for using you."

Danny shakes his head. "No, no, you shouldn't... I just... I wasn't gentle."

"Duh, I don't think gentle works in this situation." Mindy rubs her hand across her breast and grimaces. "Maybe a little less grabby here, in the future. I bruise easily." She stops him from apologizing by laying her fingers across his mouth. "It's fine, really. We can always do the nice romantic stuff when we're not hopped up on the fuck juice. I'm surprised whoever invented that isn't just flat out selling it. Maybe this is all a marketing campaign?"

"I really hope not." Danny closes his eyes, his head starting to throb. Nothing makes sense, least of all the fact that Mindy seems to actually want to be with him, even after what just happened. 

"I'm sleepy, Danny," she murmurs, snuggling in, kicking at the bedspread with her feet. 

"Let's go to sleep."

"Are you sure you want me to stay?" Mindy's voice is hesitant. 

"I'm sure," he replies. "I've wanted that...wanted you...for a while."

"Really?" She shuffles and digs the covers out from under her, burrowing in and tugging at them for him to do the same. 

"I just...I wish it didn't happen quite like this, though."

Mindy laughs. "Well, at least we got the awkward first time sex out of the way. Also, hello, you're way pervier than I would have expected..."

"It was the drug..."

"We'll see about that." She leans in and kisses him, softly, sweetly, her lips fluttering over his as she smiles against his mouth. "That's our first real kiss," she declares. 

"I'm gonna get some water, you want some?" 

"Yes, please," Mindy sighs, stretching under the sheets as Danny gets up. "Oh, one more thing..."

He pauses and she leans across the bed, draws a hand back and slaps Danny with all her might across his ass. He yelps and jumps a foot into the air as she rolls back giggling. 

"I guess I deserved that," he mutters as he walks out.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the original Velvet Fever, Likerealpeopledo/Creativelapses, for her patient beta work and her endless stroking. Of my EGO you degenerates. This is the filthiest thing I've written and I couldn't have done it without her.


End file.
